Like a Soap
by Tobirion
Summary: Dean's roommate Castiel gets paired with Benny Lafitte for an English paper; Benny is obnoxious, irritating and blasphemous (or at least that's what Cas says). Dean doesn't think he's half bad.


"How much money do you have?"

Dean, sprawled on his stomach with homework spread out before him on his bed, looked up at his roommate, who slammed the door to their dorm shut behind him as he spoke.

"Uh. I dunno. I get paid this Friday though—why? Do you need help or something?" He pushed himself to his knees to see Castiel chuck his backpack across the room with a grunt, which was worrying enough; Cas never got frustrated enough to throw something, much less his backpack which Dean was pretty sure still had his laptop in it.

"I'm going to murder someone, and then you're going to have to bail me out of jail."

"…Dude," Dean said, sinking back down with a snicker. "I don't think I could afford bail if you killed somebody. If they even give it to you."

Castiel flung himself face-down on his bed, pushing his backpack haphazardly onto the floor. Dean was quiet, returning to his homework as he waited patiently for Cas to speak, as he knew he would.

"It's my English class," Castiel said a while later, face pressed into his pillow and his dark hair a mess. He was still wearing the stupid trenchcoat, jeez—it was a gazillion degrees out there. Dean, lying six feet away in his boxers and a tank top, didn't envy Castiel's compulsive suit-wearing.

"What about it?"

Castiel rolled over to look at the ceiling. "We've been partnered for a paper."

"…And?"

"Firstly, I _hate_ group papers. I inevitably end up doing most of the work and correcting everyone's grammar. The worst part is my partner—I can't stand him."

"That sucks," Dean said sympathetically, half his mind on his readings due the next day. "He a dick?"

"Definitely an assbutt," Castiel said sourly, and Dean sent a crooked smile his way.

"Well, hang in there. Just get it over with. You'll be alright."

Castiel thanked him, laid bonelessly for a minute or two, still stewing, then gingerly inspected the damage he'd done to the stuff in his backpack. No more was said on the subject of Castiel's 'assbutt' partner, and Dean forgot all about the situation over the next few days. He was busy with his own stuff, he met up with Victor and Ash for meals in the cafeteria a couple times, and he pretended to be busy every time this one girl from his physics class tried to contact him ('cause that was a can of worms he wasn't opening ever again, oh no).

On Thursday, though, Dean heard Castiel's thundering footsteps in the hall long before he came to the door; he had time to stash the Busty Asian Beauties he'd been looking at, cover his lap with his computer and pretend to type away furiously at a paper due the following Monday.

Castiel kicked the door open with his foot and entered the room like an avenging angel—his coat billowed out behind him, his hair looked like it was standing on end and his eyes glowed with a righteous fury that made Dean pause, peeking guiltily at Cas over the top of his laptop.

"Dean," Castiel said, still in the doorway. The door bounced back off the wall from the force of his kick and he stopped it with his hand. "I'm going to Sin."

Dean burst out in inappropriate, rude laughter, nearly dropping his laptop. Castiel's face scrunched up in confusion.

"What?"

"_Cas_, that's like porno line number one! _Forgive me Father for I will Sin _and shit like that." He waggled his eyebrows. "What, you got the hots for someone? Meg will kill you."

Castiel scowled, reddening at the mention of his maybe-non-girlfriend-slash-hookup-buddy. "No," he responded, meekly closing the door behind him as someone walked by, curiously peeking into their room. "It's my English partner again."

"Well I'll be! I always knew you were a little gay, Cas—"

"That's not it either," Cas interrupted, rolling his eyes and shrugging out of his coat, draping it on the back of his desk chair. "My sexual orientation is irrelevant. He's awful, Dean."

Dean made a low sound and shifted, swinging his legs over the side of his bed after a quick check to make sure he wasn't sporting a stiffy or anything. All clear, he placed his hands on his knees and leant forward. "What's the deal?"

It was a good thing, what he and Castiel had going. They'd been randomly assigned together as roommates freshman year—Cas had taken a gap year to travel the world and learn about Christianity and shit and so was a year older—and now, tail end of their junior years, they were still roughin' it together.

Castiel had been a wreck back then, on his own and away from his religious family for the first time, rebelling by attending a public secular university. Dean hadn't wanted to even be there, going to school only because his younger brother Sam and his uncle Bobby wanted him to (though Bobby wasn't their blood uncle; he'd adopted the both of them after their Dad passed away when Dean was 17. Didn't change the fact that what Bobby said goes, and Bobby wanted Dean to attend school).

They'd helped each other through varying degrees of shit and shittier situations. Dean didn't mind that Cas tended to babble about apocalyptic stuff late at night in his sleep and Castiel hadn't batted an eye when he saw a pair of panties lying on the floor one night that were a few sizes too big to fit the petit girl Dean had been seeing at the time. He'd informed Dean that purple wasn't really his color, that he'd heard there was a sale on ladies' undergarments at the mall a short bus ride away, and that was that.

It was good, really good. Dean cared deeply about his best friend and if some douchebag was making Cas' life shitty he'd have to get involved, 'cause that was just the kind of friend Dean was.

"I can't put my finger on it," Castiel sighed, "But everything about Benny rubs me the wrong way. He's not especially rude or vulgar, but still…"

"Benny, huh?" Dean asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

"Mm. Benny Lafitte."

Shrugging, Dean replied, "Don't know 'em."

"Probably a good thing."

They ordered pizza and played some video games until late in the night to take Cas' mind off of this Benny dude and the next day Castiel was smiling again, or smiling as much as he was usually capable.

A week passed this way, with Castiel coming home after his English class and a few out-of-class meetings with Benny. He'd be angry—more annoyed and exasperated most of the time—and Dean would soothe him and suggest they do something fun like discretely drink out on a blanket in the warm sun on the quad or swing by Ash's for a movie.

He always successfully managed to cheer up his roommate. Cas was one of those frustratingly _good guys_—dude didn't hate anybody. Even his ire directed at Benny wasn't anything resembling actual hatred. Cas got pissy when flustered or frustrated, and this Benny guy, from what Dean could gather from Cas' ranting, seemed like a teaser.

In fact, Dean would almost say that Benny and these meetings were good for Cas, got him out of his comfort zone a little, but he'd never say it to the guy of course.

Whenever Castiel would complain about Benny's lack of motivation to get the paper done or something he'd said that Castiel found offensive Dean would make the appropriate noises and then smile to himself, because despite Castiel's annoyance there wasn't anything that actually made Dean worry.

One day, however, Castiel had evidently had enough. Dean was in the library, bent over his anthropology textbook and reading a piece about surrogacy and coparenting when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and he was yanked right out of his chair.

"Woah-!" Dean gasped, breaking the library's quiet rules. He spun and realized it was Castiel who had found him there in his favorite study spot, eyes wide and blue and panicked.

"Dean," he said, then pulled him away from the table and into the nearest bathroom. As soon as the door shut Castiel boomed, "Benny blasphemed!"

"I 'blaspheme' all the time," Dean said with a smile, hands coming up to rest on Castiel's shoulders. "Calm down, dude. What happened?"

Castiel, for once in his life, wouldn't meet Dean's eyes. "He insulted the angels my family and I are named after," he said finally.

If this was a few years ago he'd probably be halfway toward beating this Benny kid up for Cas' sake but Dean made himself chill, take a breath. Usually Cas was great about this kind of thing (especially considering Dean really did say at least three potentially blasphemous things every day).

"Cas," Dean hesitantly, "Are you sure you're not a little extra pissed 'cause it's Benny who said it, and not 'cause of what it was? No offense, dude, but _everyone _makes fun of your family's names." It just didn't make sense to get all upset over something like this—a fight over angel's names? Please, those were some bruises neither of them needed.

Progress, right?

Evidently he'd hit the nail on the head. Castiel's face twisted with displeasure at being figured out but he was never the type to deny himself; he nodded, albeit reluctantly, after a minute. "…Perhaps," he admitted.

Smiling widely, Dean clapped Castiel's shoulder and stepped back. "Totally. Just ignore it, man—you get that shit a lot anyway."

Castiel's eyes had that stubborn glint that always spelled trouble, though. "Dean," he said insistently, moving around Dean to block the door so the sandy-haired man couldn't escape. "I can't—I get that I may have _overreacted_—" (Dean snorted at this) "—but you don't understand, it's been getting worse. I simply can't do this anymore."

"Well what else can you do?"

Castiel's lips pursed, then his eyes lit up. "You should accompany me to my future meetings with Benny outside of class."

Dean just barely resisted a groan. "Really, Cas? C'mon, man, I've got stuff to do."

The look on Cas' face made him feel like a dick, though, and suddenly Dean found himself agreeing, realizing only after when Cas smirked at him that, once again, his friend was proving himself a master at getting Dean to bend to his will.

Asshole.

"You've got to stop me from throttling him," Castiel told him on their way back, after they'd realized that their conversation had been echoing from the bathroom into the library and that there had been some terrified kid in the middle of taking a shit when they'd gone in and had been hiding the whole time.

"I don't think I could stop you from doing that if your heart was really set on it, buddy," Dean drawled—'cause Cas was one strong, scary sonuvabitch when he wanted to be.

Castiel smiled, and Dean knew they'd be alright.

….

The day after another English class which Castiel returned from grumpy and irritated he agreed to meet Benny at the campus coffee shop to discuss something or another; Dean hadn't been paying attention at the time, too engrossed in _Dr. Sexy, MD _which he'd stumbled across on the TV.

It was hot that day and Dean's back was sweating where his backpack—heavy and full with his Engineering textbooks that he'd brought along—rested. Beside him, Castiel was already twitchy. To be honest Dean was excited to meet this guy that was capable of getting smooth, monotone, suave-in-his-own-awkward-way Castiel all riled up.

"He knows you're coming," Castiel said, lip curling in thinly-veiled distaste at a gaggle of bearded hipsters right outside the doors arguing about indie bands.

"And he didn't mind?"

"No. He said he's interested to find out if my friends are as 'uptight' as I am."

Castiel sounded incredibly offended on Dean's behalf and the younger man laughed hard, dropping into a squishy armchair after dragging it over to a decent-sized coffee table where three people could comfortably work. Castiel ignored this and sat stiffly, checking the time on his phone and glancing around.

"We were five minutes early. Relax," Dean soothed, and got up, heading towards the counter of the coffeeshop to order them something.

Everything had complicated names and Dean ordered two blacks (stopping to flirt with the barista, who he thought he recognized from a Calculus class sophomore year). He added milk and sugar as Cas liked it and when he returned to the table Castiel was sitting across from who he could only assume was Benny.

The guy was smiling at Castiel like he was hilarious, and, truthfully, his dark-haired friend was _always_ hilarious once you figured him out.

Dean placed Castiel's coffee on the table in front of him and stepped over his friend's legs to sink into the armchair he'd brought over earlier, in between the two.

Benny grinned at Dean, and his eyes were blue and amused already. "Oh, hey, it's the chaperone for our little date."

He extended a hand for Dean to shake and Dean did so, fumbling a little as he shifted his coffee to his other hand because _woah_—Castiel hadn't said anything about any _accent_—and Benny's hand was warm and strong. The rough callouses on Dean's hands from his mechanic gig scraped against Benny's soft palm as they drew back but he didn't seem to mind.

"I didn't realize you guys had to be chaperoned," he said, shifting in his seat and relaxing into the back of it. "Guess you guys are worse off than I thought. Nice to meet you, man."

"You too, brother," Benny murmured, and his eyes didn't leave Dean's. Beside them Castiel cleared his throat and Dean glanced over at him; Cas's eyes were narrowed.

_I'm in trouble_, Dean thought. He smiled innocently and began pulling his own work out of his backpack.

"So what're you guys doin' today?"

"We have to interview some of the Communications faculty," Castiel answered, shuffling through papers. "Prepare our questions, figure out who to interview, et cetera."

Benny sighed from Dean's right. "I'm a business management major," he said at Dean's questioning look. "I want to own a restaurant someday—I ain't got the patience for this."

"Business management, huh? No offense, but that sounds boring as hell."

Benny grinned and his gaze travelled to the thick textbook in Dean's hands. "_Advanced Thermodynamics_? And what do you call that?"

"Engineering," Dean said defensively. "It's not boring."

That got him an eye roll but a smile, and Dean found himself smiling back. "I'd rather learn about heat transference than how to be a dick and the best ways to fire people."

Benny drawled, giving Dean a lazy look from under his lashes, "Heat transference, huh? That's your thing?"

"…I guess."

"I might know a thing or two about that."

Not knowing what to say, Dean took a shaky sip of coffee.

"That was the worst—and nerdiest—come-on I've heard in a while," Castiel said flatly, unamused, brutally honest as always, and Dean started, having forgotten about his roommate entirely. "If you two are done, I'd like to get started…?"

Benny laughed and Dean grinned, pleased to see the way Benny's eyes crinkled as he did so. He was a handsome dude—not in the pretty-boy way like he or Cas, though; he sported a two or three day old beard, messier than Castiel's ever-present five o'clock shadow. He looked strong—tall, too, like he'd be the same height or maybe a tiny bit taller than Dean when he stood up (most guys Dean knew were an inch or so shorter, save his humongous younger brother who towered over everybody, the loveable freak).

He managed to focus on his work as Castiel and Benny got down to business, listening with half an ear as they bickered about, well, everything—when to set the interview, who to talk to, where to rent the audio equipment, who would take written notes—and at one point Dean had to say, still buried behind his book, "Easy, boys, easy."

Benny was smiling though, very small; Dean had a feeling that Castiel, visibly bored and unhappy, didn't see it.

Castiel got up when he and Dean had both finished their coffee to get them something else. Dean, feeling the heat eyes could carry, looked up to find Benny staring, chin propped up with his elbow on the arm of his own chair.

"How long have you known Mr. Angel over there?" he asked.

"Since freshman year—we were assigned as roommates."

"That's cool. He's a good guy."

"Yeah," Dean said, beaming as Castiel returned with some organic sparkling cranberry lemonade thing, "He is."

The three worked for maybe an hour more before Castiel and Benny evidently settled their plan of action and were done drafting the questions they were planning to ask their interviewees. Quickly Castiel was standing and shrugging on his jacket and Dean followed suit, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. Benny stayed sitting, sipping leisurely at a black coffee he'd gotten—and Dean could respect a guy for that.

"Man, I gotta ask," Dean blurted as Castiel moved toward the doorway. "Where're you from?"

"Oh, the accent?" Benny smiled again, slow and flirty, like he knew about the things it was doing to Dean. "Louisiana."

"Awesome." Dean blinked, impressed. "Well, it was great meeting you, Benny. See ya around, I'm sure."

"You too, brother."

Dean smiled like an idiot and for a few seconds too long before turning and following Castiel out of the coffeeshop. The lack of air conditioning hit like a punch to the gut and, disoriented, it took him a second to spot Cas a short distance away, watching him mournfully.

"You _like _him," he growled, voice deeper than usual and dark with accusation, like Dean crushing on his sworn enemy was the worst thing that could ever happen.

Dean shrugged. "He's my type—what can I say?"

Castiel groaned.

…

"Cas!"

Castiel stuck his head in from the bathroom (they'd suffered through the few extra hundred it took to get a dorm on campus without a communal bathroom, but in their opinion it was freaking worth it) and his toothbrush was still in his mouth, a ring of blue-white foam on his lips. "Hmmn?"

"Benny went to Kansas for a week two years ago," he said in the most obnoxious, gushy voice he could muster. Castiel gave him the finger—another _woah _move for his normally oh-so-polite friend—and Dean roared with laughter as he disappeared back into the bathroom.

He'd done some, ahem, internet stalking and had been excitedly telling Castiel all the things that he and Benny had in common as well as things like _he tweeted that he likes to bake pies—and you know how much I love pie. _He'd been rather successful in driving Castiel bonkers.

"He's not that bad a guy," Dean had said reasonably (though truthfully he didn't know Benny at all, but his first impressions were rarely wrong), but Castiel didn't want to hear it. He just didn't _like _Benny, and thus far Dean's teasing to get Castiel to admit he didn't totally hate the guy wasn't getting anywhere.

He'd spent one morning talking to Sammy on the phone and Cas had invited him along to a drafting session in the cafeteria that afternoon—he'd then spent an embarrassing amount of time gushing about his little brother to Benny, who seemed honestly curious. Benny had a little sister named Elizabeth who sounded pretty awesome; he'd told him so. Family men, the both of them. That was cool.

Dean's third meeting with the two of them had gone a little bit worse—Castiel was in an especially cranky mood, having gotten very little sleep the night before due to a test in his Theology course.

"This is the crazy aunt I'm road tripping to the K-12 education conference with?" Benny asked Dean, rolling his eyes and jabbing a thumb at Castiel, referring to the event that weekend that they were attending and where they were getting more information about teachers and electronic teaching methods or something else boring as hell.

"I am not your aunt," Castiel said testily. It looked like he was gearing for a fight, jaw set and his trenchcoat flapping in wind that came out of nowhere. Benny was a big guy but Dean would put his money on Castiel; sometimes he still got phantom pains from the epic ass-kicking Castiel had given him sophomore year.

"What? _Really?_" Benny asked sarcastically.

"I have no possible relation to your sibling offspring."

Benny looked like he wanted lightning to strike him where he sat. "Now you're kidding me."

Between them Dean groaned. "You two are killing me," he grunted. "Both of you sit down and shut up—work on your damn paper."

Luckily for him, they did it. Later, when Castiel left to go to the bathroom Dean asked, mouth twisting, "Why're you so hard on Cas? He's my friend, yknow—I know he wouldn't do anything to piss you off so bad. What gives?"

Benny looked surprised. "I don't hate him, if that's what you're askin'. Nah, I like the guy. He's just too uptight for his own good. I noticed you two have gotten easier on each other the past week or two."

"Really?" Dean frowned, but realized it was true; Benny's constant harassment, if it could be called that, was bringing Castiel out of his shell in ways Dean hadn't been able to. They _had_ been doing better—sometimes their friendship grew strained for short periods of time, as complicated as it was.

"Well, yeah," Benny said, like it was obvious. "Compared to the first day I metcha? Anyone can see that."

"Huh."

"He'll come around eventually," Benny said confidently. "Sometimes he grinds my nerves a bit but I really don't dislike him." Benny winked—actually _winked_, and that was _Dean's _move— "Mostly I get frustrated when he hogs his hot best friend's attention when I'm tryin' to talk to him."

Dean scoffed but felt his face warm up, and Castiel sent him a knowing look when he returned.

That night Dean tried texting Tessa, another Engineering major who was cute as hell and who had expressed interest in a dorky all-night horror marathon with him, but his heart wasn't in it. He told Cas as much and he sighed, shaking his head.

"You're hopeless," he said, but Dean could tell he was smiling as he ducked into his closet for an outfit for his not-a-date with Meg.

"You're just jealous!"

Meg and Castiel must have had too much fun out wherever they were prowling the city somewhere because the next evening Castiel started complaining about a headache and a fever, and the next morning, the day of his conference with Benny, he was curled up in bed nauseous and eyes crusted shut.

A knock came at the door when Dean was trying to wrestle Cas' shirt off—he'd thrown up on himself at some point during the night, they'd unfortunately discovered. He answered it and Benny came inside, frowning when the smell of the room hit his nose—but not in disgust, Dean noted; he peered over Dean's shoulder to see if Castiel was alright.

Score.

"Cas?" Dean asked, shaking his friend's shoulder as he returned to his bed. "Benny's here. You obviously can't go to your thing—is there anything you wanna tell him, instructions or whatever? Can you hear me?"

After some grumbling and a few slaps to his cheek Castiel focused bleary eyes on Benny, who, to both Dean and Castiel's surprise, reached out and laid his palm on his sweaty forehead, pushing his bangs back.

"I'd take some medicine, brother," Benny said lowly. "Do you need me to go get you somethin'?"

Dean grinned behind Benny's back—he fucking _knew it_, that man had cuddly, caring, mothering instincts a mile wide. "We've got stuff in the bathroom," he said.

They managed to get Cas to swallow down some painkillers-slash fever reducers and gave him a new shirt, which he clumsily crawled into. Castiel talked Benny through what to do and actually apologized for not being able to go, promising to make it up by doing an extra page of the paper and Benny looked so despondent at having to go alone—Dean cursed and found himself volunteering.

"If you're gonna be okay here, Cas, I can go in your place. I don't have anything going on today."

Benny looked at him like he was nuts but Castiel didn't even bat an eye. Who knows, maybe he had been expecting it; he always knew everything about Dean anyways.

After paying a visit to their neighbor Garth to ensure he'd check up on Castiel later in the afternoon Benny and Dean, carrying Castiel's frayed backpack with his notes and equipment in it, left the building.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," Benny said, clearly nervous, but Dean shook it away.

"Don't worry about it. I want you guys to get a good grade on this, and I don't mind helping out."

"If you're sure, brother."

Dean stopped short in the parking lot after seeing Benny's ride. "You were gonna drive an hour and a half away in _this_?" he pointed a finger at the rusted, filthy, fucking _trailer _clumsily parked in the far back of the lot.

"Uh. Yeah." Benny scratched the back of his neck, looking away. "Y'see, I'm here on a scholarship and don't have much money and my grandpa passed this on when—"

"Dude," Dean breathed, staring at it like it was a UFO. "No offense man, I'm sure your granddad was awesome, but we're taking my car."

Benny followed Dean wordlessly back across the parking lot and when he saw the Impala he let out a sharp whistle.

"Was my dad's," Dean said proudly, then climbed inside. "Buckle up, Louisiana boy."

And actually, Dean had way more fun than he thought he would. Benny sang along with Dean to the collection of tapes he kept in the glove compartment, stopping occasionally to rag on Dean's singing ability (though he wasn't any better, Dean was quick to fire back). The ride was long enough for them to talk and get to know each other better but not so long that it grew tedious or awkward, though Dean had and could drive for hours and hours if he was in the mood.

They arrived a little early and grabbed some lunch at a diner near the convention center in the suburban town where this teaching expo was being held. Squashed in the corner and both nursing beers to relax them for the upcoming shit show that was cutting-edge developments in fourth-grade teaching technology, Benny told Dean all about his plans to own a restaurant someday. He liked seafood, gumbo, the kind of stuff Dean would have thought, but then started listing all this stuff Dean hadn't even read about in the cookbooks Sam had bought during this weird chef phase he'd had at eleven.

"Can you make pie?" Dean asked. "That's a must."

"Can I make _pie_?" Benny asked, like Dean had asked if he was indeed a human being who breathed air. "I make a mean pecan pie, Dean Winchester."

"My favorite's apple," Dean said flippantly, but grinned. "We'll have to see."

"Guess we will."

Surprisingly even the freaking convention was kind of fun. They got loads of free stuff, though it was mostly pens and the kind of shit that was immediately lost under the bed and not discovered until move-out day, and Benny asked all the right people the questions he had to. They walked around, recorded themselves acting stupid with this robot-looking thing that could apparently record a teacher instructing little kids Chinese in Beijing and broadcast it into the everyday American classroom, and Dean even got the number of one hot kindergarten teacher who said that he looked like he'd be just _great _with small children.

Benny took the liberty of throwing the number in the trash, and that made Dean smile, because even if they hadn't said anything about it or made any explicit advances beyond poorly-veiled innuendos and brief passes, something was happening, and Dean had a feeling Castiel wouldn't even mind.

The trip back was fun, and Dean stretched his arm out along the back of low, wide seat. For a long stretch of miles Benny let Dean play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck and fiddle with his collar and that was cool too.

Castiel was conscious when they returned and seemed a lot better—he explained all the bodily functions he'd suffered through while they were gone and that made Benny feel a little queasy but in the end all was good. Castiel thanked Dean repeatedly, Dean brushed it off, and when Benny left he gave Dean a hug in the doorway, strong and lingering, the smell and feel of warm sun still on his neck.

"See you soon, brother," Benny said, squeezing a little.

Dean responded, scraping his cheek against Benny's and getting a thrill from the roughness of it all, "Definitely. Later, Benny."

The man winked again before the door shut, obscuring him from view, and when Dean turned around Castiel was stretched out on his bed with an eyebrow raised, clearly expecting information.

"There's nothing to tell," Dean said, raising his hands innocently.

"I'm sure."

…

After another few frustrating days and an all-nighter on Castiel and Benny's parts the paper was turned in, something analytic and research-oriented about teaching methods in the 21st century. Castiel had asked Dean to proofread it, but he had politely declined, sending them Jo's way instead.

When it was all done Castiel slumped onto his bed, motionless, shifting only occasionally to text somebody (probably Meg). Dean, hovering by his dresser and feeling restless, asked hesitantly, "Uh, Cas?"

"Dean?"

"What's the, uh, deal with you and Benny, now that the paper's over? I get you still don't like him, but, ah—"

Castiel saved him from himself. He smiled, tired but honest. "Actually, I invited him earlier today to visit the art museum with me. I figured that we should at least be friends, especially considering…recent events." His eyes flashed to Dean, amused. "He agreed, but only on the condition that you came too. He also said something about pie, I believe."

"…Oh." Dean grinned. Benny and Cas, friends? Being _friendly_? He could even date Benny and it would all be good—that could be a thing.

"That's good?" Castiel asked dubiously, already distracted again by his phone.

"Yeah, man. That's _awesome_."

* * *

_Written for DeanBenny week over on tumblr. Thanks so much for reading! :)_


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